


Ex-Friends (petekey)

by The_City_Rain



Series: Petekey [4]
Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Crossdressing Mikey, Fem!Mikey, M/M, Petes a homophobe, Pikey, petekey, slight homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:08:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21990040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_City_Rain/pseuds/The_City_Rain
Summary: Pete Wentz, a seventeen year old boy that moved out to a new town.Mikey Way, a sixteen year old cross dresser that lives next door to Pete Wentz.Best friends, Ex friends, Lovers[[Completed]]
Relationships: Mikey Way/PeteWentz, petekey - Relationship
Series: Petekey [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1582927
Comments: 6
Kudos: 25





	1. Window Box

Pete sat in his new bedroom, the bare mattress beneath him, asking himself what the point was of all of this. A new house, a new street, a new world. New is supposed to mean exciting, but this was one of the saddest, most nostalgic days he had ever experienced. 

It was something he never thought he'd think but he missed his mother. Or maybe he just missed missing something. Right now he missed a lot that he'd never actually cared for. He had just moved away from his parents and into his own residence, despite only being seventeen. He was now in a different town, surrounded by sad brown boxes in his sad yellow house, identical to all the others lining the street. 

He had never grown out of his rebelling teen stage. Therefore, the second he could, he packed and left. He clearly remembered the yelling and crying that had taken place. He had jumped in the front of his friend, Gabe's, pickup and drove into the night. He had stayed with Gabe for awhile, loving the freedom. Gabe eventually kicked him out since he barely had the money to keep himself going and Pete wasn't exactly contributing to anything. 

He hadn't done anything yet other than put the right boxes in the right room. He probably wouldn't unpack. Not until his life depended on it and maybe not even then. It would be much easier to move back home if he kept everything taped up in their respective boxes. 

It was unusual to sit in such a quiet room. He could hear himself think, now that he was alone, but this wasn't peaceful in the least. When he stayed with Gabe, everything was go. They went to parties or lazed about playing video games. And as annoying as Gabe was, Pete needed him around. 

The voices in his head filled the confines of his brain, and none of them were saying good things. Pete sighed and stared at his bass, still confined in its black leather case. He dropped his feet over the side of the bed before plopping down and sulking over to it. As he contemplated whether or not to take the instrument out of its comfortable haven, he picked at each patch sewed onto the case. Each had a different story to tell. He traced the three words that had taken him so much time to sew. 

'Fall Out Boy.' It was the name of a band he had tried back at home. Before he moved. It was a dream for him, to be surrounded by music and his two best friends. They had never found a proper drummer. They never finished what they started. Oh, nostalgia. Terrible, terrible nostalgia. 

He still wrote. Just now it had no purpose. But the the more he thought, the less things actually had purpose. He felt himself slipping, he refused and downed two of the blue pills.

He gently took out the polished black and red bass and sat on his unmade bed. He faced the large window and started to pick out a random tune. He hummed along to the song quietly. Even though he didn't hook it up to the amp, he could hear every chord. He knew that bass in and out. It was his soulmate of a different kind. As Pete stared into space, a glint of light caught his eye. Snapping out of his daze, Peter looked for the origin of the light. Right out the window was an identical house, with a window that faced his. Pete thought that was a pretty bad set up for privacy but until he built a house he couldn't complain. 

He looked inside the room of the opposite house, taking in the neutral colour scheme. The walls were a soft blue, barely even there. The curtains were a beige colour and the bed pink. It was an odd array of colours but it was better than the bland room Pete sat in. The shine caught his eye again. 

It was a dress. A beautiful one at that. But what Pete found more beautiful was the girl that wore it. 

She was spinning around to a song unknown to Pete, long, light brown hair following her every time she moved her head. It fell over her face, slightly covering her wide, dark eyes. She had a sharp jawline, yet still managed to look feminine. He couldn't see very well but he could tell her eyes were brown.

Her dress was a light pink and white mix that reminded Pete of cotton candy. It was the belt that had caught the light with its silver sequence. 

The imaginary bass line stopped when Pete saw her. She was the spitting image of beauty. 

Pete placed his bass on the mattress and slowly made his way over to his own window. He hesitantly opened it and picked up a small pebble that a bird had deposited on the windowsill, throwing it at the girl's window. 

She jumped in surprise and dropped the brush she had been singing into. She had been used to no one living in the other house, hence why she chose that room. She embarrassingly made her way to the the window before sliding it open. 

"H-hello?" She stuttered out. Pete smiled at her shyness, a perfect contrast to him.

"I'm Pete, I just moved in." He yelled, across the street.

"I'm Emma," she smiled. 

Pete thought over his present situation. Nothing to do, unhappy, unaccompanied. Then he had an idea. A crazy one, but it just might work in his favour. 

"Wanna go vinyl shopping?" he asked with sudden courage. 

Emma laughed in disbelief. "What?"

"Yes or no?" He asked, his smile wide. Emma looked around awkwardly, wondering who the hell Pete was and what the hell was happening. Petes hope fell. 

"I guess I could..." she concluded that he couldn't be that bad. 

"Cool." He said, ducking back in the window. "Then it's a date." He grinned.


	2. Victim of Circumstance

"On one condition!"

Pete looked up. That was the phrase of his childhood. Every privilege was presented 'on one condition.' This time, Pete was allowed to move out.. on one condition. 

"You can move out, as long as you promise me that you'll finish high school," he remembered his mom stressing to him like her life depended on it. Pete had always wanted to tour the world with a band but his mother thought it impossible. She wanted him to go to college and get a job that he had to sit on his ass all day for. Like hell he would. 

Pete had always hated school. His parents had always said it was a normal teenage thing. Pete called bullshit. Not every kid was on meds. Not every kid had tried to end their lives over the stress and anxiety it caused. Or maybe they did and Pete never heard. Or never remembered, maybe no one remembers the person they swore they couldn't live without. 

Pete watched the people he was passing. From the preppy girls painted in makeup to the sad loner boys. Maybe they were all depressed. Maybe all of them would wake up dead tomorrow. Who could tell? Not Pete. Not anyone. 

There was groups passing him, his legs on autopilot as his brain took over. The cheerleaders, the jocks, the nerds, the emos, all of them. Pete wondered where he belonged. Everyone was part of a category whether Pete liked it or not. 

He walked further into the new school, thinking how much of a pain it was going to be to start everything new. New textbooks, new people, new classes, new teachers, new reputation. He had to rebuild everything. 

He bumped in to a gangly boy, knocking him to the floor. 'Just great,' Pete thought, 'Your first day at a new school and you've already made yourself a reputation. This dude could be the most popular boy in school and you just went and started a rivalry.'

It was a slight exaggeration, but Pete knew that. Pete dropped to the ground, frantically apologising as he gathered the boy's things. He looked over to see his accidental victim, who was searching for his glasses to cover his hazel doe eyes. 

His hair was relatively short, thin and a light mousy brown colour. It looked like the boy had taken the time to straighten it (not that pete could say much). He had a very prominent jawline that looked as though it could cut through steel. Acne spattered across his cheeks. Pete glanced around but saw no unwanted stares and none of the boys friends. 

Pete wondered what category he belonged to. Probably a band geek, he concluded, taking a proper look at him. No popular boy would've stayed quiet this long. 

"I-I'm sorry..." the boy mumbled, his voice sounding slightly feminine. 

Or maybe the emo/punks, Pete judged from the kids Misfits tee. 

"It's fine," Pete picked up the boys black glasses, framed with white, and put them right in front of his hand, "It was my fault anyway. I wasn't watching."

The boy picked them up with a sigh of relief and stuck them on his face. He looked up at Pete from his awkward position on the floor. His golden flecked eyes widened and he started at Pete in some sort of awe. 

Pete flicked his head lightly. "Are you okay?" 

The boy nodded dumbly. 

"I'm Pete. Nice to meet you."

"You're like, really hot... I'm Mikey!" Mikey blushed darkly at his words and outwardly cringed. "Sorry, I didn't mean to say that out loud, I probably sound like a creep..." Mikey silently cursed himself. 

He sat back on his heels, knowing he'd make a fool out of himself trying to stand up. His long limbs were a pain in every aspect of his life. 

Pete's face scrunched up in obvious disgust. He pulled back the hand he had offered the boy to stand up like he was diseased. 

Pete had grown up in a homophobic house in a homophobic town. It was 1996 for gods sake. Being gay was a sin.

"Fuhking fag..." he mumbled and sneered as he walked away.

At his old school, Pete was a jock. Pete had always found it very cliche but he supposed the cliches had to come from somewhere. The football team had bullied everyone who didn't fit the status quo. For his first few years in high school he had followed them like a lost puppy. Only two years ago he had become the captain and taken over the stereotypical role of 'bully'. 

Here and know, that meant nothing. He'd probably suffer through the bullying for the next year or least until he proves himself. He only had one year to be pushed around or gain useless fame. Pete knew the people popular in highschool were bound to be the burnouts. A match can't stay lit when it's thrown out on it's ass. 

Mikey sat back on his heels and covered his face. "Of fuhking course," he groaned into his palms.


	3. Every Star Burns Out

Pete stared out the window, attempting to count the stars. He couldn't see many. The city lights overpowered their faint glow. He preferred the country for that one reason. He loved the stars and space itself. It was a mystery. He sighed and cast his eyes downward, twiddling his thumbs. He needed to find something to do with time. He knew his game boy was in one of the boxes, he just didn't know which. 

He knew he shouldn't have, but who was there to stop him? He looked through Emma's window curiously. It was kind of like looking at your phone when you wake up. You check your notifications to see if anything important happened while you were in the dreamscape. But this time it was looking through a window that was a mere foot away from his own, seeing how things were going for his neighbour. Maybe she was having a better day than he was. 

His first day had been shit, to put it nicely. He had already gotten a detention for 'snapping back' simply because he corrected something the teacher had gotten wrong. He had scowled as they changed it subtly. He supposed he was in school, what was he meant to be, smart? Pfft.

As predicted, he was the fresh meat for the sports stars of the school. Pete wondered why he ever wanted to be like them but as he pressed on the forming bruise, he remembered. He'd rather not be on the receiving end. As much as he hated it, he hated getting thrown around even more.

When he looked through the window, Emma was face down on her bed, her shoulders shaking and her hands clenched in fists. Pete had never seen anyone at their low point (besides himself, of course), and the sight pained him. Pete couldn't imagine how his parents felt, knowing one day they could wake up and their child wouldn't. 

He lightly rapped on the window, hoping to draw her attention and somehow make it all better. Heal her wounds. He could play superhero for a moment of that. Even if he couldn't do it for himself.

Emma's face slowly appeared as she nervously lifted her head. Her tears flowed through her makeup like they were mapping out the stars Pete had been watching. Her hair was messed up and tangled. She looked out the window at Pete's blurry figure and wiped her eyes, managing to smudge her eyeliner even more. 

She rolled off the bed ungracefully and trudged over to the window, opening the latch and swinging it open. She shoved her glasses on as she did so. They were a light navy and thin framed. They foggy up a little from her hot tears. 

"Do you like watching people cry through their bedroom windows?" Her voice was croaky and sounded slightly deeper than when he first heard her speak. Pete passed it off.

"No! No, I just... I was counting stars and I got bored. Your curtain was open, so I just..." he quickly came up with an explanation, trailing off towards the end of his sentence, hoping that the girl would understand what he meant.

She smiled weakly and sniffled before giving a small laugh and gently reaching out to touch Pete's shoulder. "Calm down, I was kidding," she assured him. She moved a few strands of her greasy hair out of her face with her slender fingers. 

"Oh..." he realised. He tried to quickly take the spotlight off of his misinterpretation and onto the matter at hand. "Why're you crying, if you don't mind me asking?"

She looked down and fidgeted with an ornament on her windowsill, a glass unicorn. "My boyfriend broke up with me." She stated plainly but Pete could hear the bitterness behind the words that in any other order wouldn't carry the same message.

"Why?" he asked, mentally cursing at himself for being so intrusive. 

"He found something out about me," she said flatly.

"What was it?" Pete asked, his curiosity getting the best of him.

"I'm not gonna tell you."

Pete just nodded in response. He could respect that.

"Wanna Play Mario Kart?" It had always cheered him up when he had someone to play it with. There was nothing like playing Mario Kart while your parents fought in the next room. 

Emma just smiled. "You should be a therapist." She joked but let Pete help her through his window none the less.


	4. The Laws of Unintended Sequences

Mikey trudged into the school building with his head down. His eyes were red and puffy. Yesterday's eyeliner was smudged, blending with the heavy bags under his eyes. He looked like death personified. 

He took a long sip of his hot coffee, his hands wrapped around the white plastic cup. It was somewhat nice to not worry about anything other than the drink he held. To him, black coffee was a cigarette. It was bitter, but it offered something that he didn't have before. In the case of a cigarette, that thing would be calm. In the case of arabica, it was tranquil energy. It wasn't one of the electric cigarettes with its sweet flavors that cushioned the blow- that would be like having a Starbucks beverage. Like a pumpkin spice latte. It was the same bitter coffee, but sugarcoated. It hid the caffeine behind an abundance of flavor. But Mikey liked his coffee black. Black coffee was honest. It didn't offer sugar to hide the caffeine and the terrible flavor, but instead was outright. 'I'm here, I taste disgusting, I give you energy, and I'm not going to hide anything.' Black coffee was everything that the world wasn't. 

It wasn't long before Mikey was slammed back into the real world and into a locker. The coffee was knocked out of his hand, and he watched in sorrow as it fell to the ground. It hit the floor, and the lid came off of it, the dark liquid spilling onto the floor. He felt a metal lock stick into his back and he groaned in discomfort. His hands were pinned to the wall, each one on an opposite side of his head. 

He looked at the person holding him against the lockers with a mix of pain and shock. No one had touched Mikey since he befriended a boy called Bob. 

Bob was tall and strong. Every time Mikey got into trouble at school, Bob was always there to save him. Thank god for Bob Bryar. Usually there was a hierarchy in school: the bullies and the bullied. But Bob was neither. He was the saviour of the school. Bullies were afraid of him. 

Mikey was always terrified of Bob growing up. He was menacing both in attitude and physical stature. There was no proof, but rumour had it that Bob was suspended from his previous school for punching a teacher in the nose. However, Bob was a pretty nice guy. One day when Bob dropped his juice box, Mikey had offered him his. They were inseparable ever since. Turns out that Bob wasn't so bad after all. 

But Bob wasn't here, it was Pete holding him down. And as much as Mikey would have loved it in any other situation, he wished in was under extremely different circumstances. Pete was looking at him with such distaste. No one must've told Pete about Bob, but it seemed that didn't matter now. Bob was always late to school. 

"Hey fag, what're you crying about? Getting it up the ass?" Pete snickered at himself like he had just told the brightest joke. 

Mikey rolled his eyes and gently pushed against him. "Let go of me." He wasn't in the mood, not that he ever was, but this day especially. 

"Where's the fun in that?" A smirk crept its way onto Pete's face. His lips pulling into a taunting grin that showed off all he teeth. 

"You don't know who I am."

"I know who you think you are and I know who you really are. You're a quiet shy kid who's actually a disgusting, gay, slutty twink." Pete gave a sharp blow to Mikey's stomach with each of the last four words. 

Mikey shook his head, more tears pouring. "Please.." he gasped out, winded and trying to catch his breath. Why did life have to be like this? Why did Pete have to be so two-sided? Why did Mikey have to be gay?

Pete spat in his face, "Pathetic. Learn to be a real man."

Pete suddenly let go of Mikey, and the taller boy dropped to the floor, clutching his stomach. Peter walked away, and as luck had it, just in time. Bob plundered through the doorway and froze when he saw Mikey's frame curled up on the floor, reduced to sobs. Bob ran to his aid.

"Mikes, What happened?! Who did this?!"

Mikey shook his head and clung to Bob's shirt. "R-ray broke up with me... then some guys cornered me."

Bob held him closer and pet his greasy hair. "Who were the guys?" He asked softly. Bob may seem tough, but he had a soft side when it came to Michael. He treated him like a little brother, minus the teasing... sometimes.

"I don't know their names," Mikey lied. 

In his house it was only men. Him, his father and his brother Gerard. He was always brought up doing stereotypical boy things like playing sports or watching car races. Though it was obvious he and Gerard hated it, his father still tried. His father, Donald, was a good natured man who wanted the best for his sons. 

Growing up with only two older males made Mikey feel weak. He hated having to go home and tell them that he was too weak to fight back. Since his second year of high school, he had always lied about the bruises, once to a point where Gerard was scared to let him near a stairs unsupervised. 

Mikey curled up to Bob while hiccuping, Bob wrapped his arm around Mikey. Bob rocked him slowly and whispered random things to him. They sat like that until first bell, where Bob walked Mikey to class.

Nobody dared to call Bob a fag. The guy with his arm around the official faggot of the school. Mikey wished that he could be as strong as Bob.


	5. Flying High on Loves Young Dream

Pete carried Emma over to her pink, silk-covered bed. He sat her in the middle of the mattress and gently pushed her into a laying position as he cradled her head and deepened the kiss between them. 

She let out a soft sound of pleasure and wrapped her arms around his neck. She gently tugged at his straightened hair and bit his lip as he pulled away. Pete pulled back slowly, letting the kiss linger. 

"You're so hot."

Emma blushed deeply at his words and chose to stay silent. She didn't trust her vocal chords at the moment. She leaned up and pecked his lips.

Pete had taken her out for a date. They had gone to see The Labyrinth for the 10 year anniversary re-run. Pete loved watching Emma's lips form the actors' lines and her face light up at the funny parts. It was a new fact about Emma, her first love was David Bowie. Pete had then taken them for a quick dinner. It was slightly awkward, looking around at couples on romantic dates while they were only on their second. They were easily the youngest in the entire restaurant apart from a noisy kid a few tables down. 

Pete grinned devilishly and pinned her hands above her head gently, he didn't want to hurt her. He started to grind his semi hard on on her thigh. She let out a moan and tried to push him away weakly, not really wanting him to stop. 

"What's wrong?"

"I can't-"

"Relax, baby."

Pete's hand slowly trailed down her body, not wasting any time getting where he wanted to be. He kissed her head and placed his hand over her panties. 

"Pete no-" Emma pushed at his shoulder, now with a little more force. Pete looked at her with wild eyes, his pupils blown and mouth red and swollen from kissing. 

"I'll take care of you."

"I'm just.. not ready," she squeezed her eyes shut. Pete knew she didn't want to stop and Pete was a persuasive bitch. She couldn't trust herself to resist him. 

"We can't. Just.. please." 

Pete slowly pulled his hand away and kissed her. "I'm sorry, doll." He kissed all over her face as an apology. 

Emma looked relieved and sighed. He sat on the bed beside her, laughing a bit. She looked up at him and let out a giggle. 

He turned his head to the side to watch her. "We almost went there." They were both reduced to tears from laughter, not that there was anything funny about the situation, but what else was there to do?

Emma's dad knocked and walked in. "What's all the noise about?" he asked, looking at them suspiciously. 

Emma, unlike most other girls, was very open with her father. It was just them and her older brother who was off at college in New York. He only ever got a chance to come home during holidays. Gerard was off at college at the moment, so if Emma wanted or needed anything, she had to tell her father. There was no secrets in the family. Now between the family and the outside world? They'd own a business if lying was a job. 

"Pete and I almost did it."

Pete blushed dark crimson and looked at Emma with wide eyes. Donald was a big man that could easily take him. Pete looked up at the man, fear evident in his eyes. 

"Pete, son, keep it in your pants until at least the third date."

Emma cackled beside him and Pete felt his cheeks heat up. He was lost for words. How could he possibly respond to that?


	6. Wherefore Art Thou

Pete sighed and glanced out the grimy window. He'd been living here awhile and hadn't cleaned once. He watched the dust particles float around carelessly. There was a layer of dust coating everything except the bed and his precious bass. 

The dust itched at his eyes, but he couldn't bring himself to get up and do anything. He watched the free birds flying high. Cat Power crackled through his old radio, the tape skipping at some parts.

He closed his sore eyes and sighed again. He just thought it had always been a bad idea, but who or what was there to stop him?

He refused to believe he missed his parents, but deep down he knew the truth. He was alone. He had made a few friends at school, all bullies but he had to take what he could get. Emma didn't go to his school. He had asked where she did go but was always met with silence or a subject change. There was a lot about her he didn't know. 

Come to think of it, he didn't know anything about her past. Only the now. He sometimes wished he could live in the past. He thought back to his old school, old friends, old life. He missed none of it but he missed missing it. He wanted to make himself miss it.

A wave of horrible nostalgia washed over him. He rolled onto his side and curled up. He hated moments like these where everything felt so disconnected. It was like a video game to him. Like pacman. He missed some gems and couldn't get past the gate. He needed to go back to go forward. But this was real life and going back was impossible. He could always go back to his old home but things change and people change more and Pete just wished everything stayed the same for his entire life. 

His eyes slowly cracked open. He needed a distraction, but like this, he didn't think he could bring himself to do anything. He could attempt to update his blog. But no one wanted to read his depressing poetry about his depressing past. Nobody wanted to read him writing about tragedy. Maybe he could get Emma to distract him. It took him ten minutes to pull himself out of bed and stand.

When he did, he shuffled over to the window and peeked around the edge of the curtain, squinting against the light. He slowly opened them and yawned. He remembered what his old English teacher had said about Romeo, 'sitting in his dark room all day.. now that's just depressing.'

It had made Pete feel guilty for some reason. He guessed it was because of his parents. He never realised what they must've gone through. They went from having a happy, chatty, bubbly kid to having a son who would barely leave his room. A son they couldn't guarantee would even be alive when they got up. A son who rarely talked to them anymore. 

He traced the tattoo on his back, he had gone behind his parents' back to get it and keeping it a secret was a fun game to him. Now that made him feel guilty too. 

He closed his eyes and shook his head. He counted to seven while snapping his fingers at his side. When he opened them again he was faced with the window. 

He looked across to Emma's house. It made him feel like Mike Myers, stalking before going in for the kill. But he wasn't going to kill Emma, his mind needed to calm down. 

Only, he wasn't met with Emma. He was met with Mikey. The faggot from school. A frown took hold of his face and he gently punched the window. 

The poor boy jumped and spun around, his eyes wide. He slowly opened the window, as though he was waiting to walk into Petes fist. 

"What the hell are you doing here?" Pete spat. 

Mikey decided to answer with the truth. "I live here."

"I never seen you here."

"What are you, a stalker?" 

Pete found that ironic. Maybe he was Mike Myers. 

"My girlfriend lives there."

The word felt weird and heavy on his tongue, like he was speaking a new language and couldn't roll his r's right. 

"Your girlfriend..? Emma? My sister?"

Pete made a 'duh' face though on the inside he was disgusted. Emma had left that part out. 

"How many chicks live there."

"One.." Mikey answered quietly. "I can get her if you'd like?"

"Do." Pete snapped. 

Mikey was set into action as he shut the curtains. He ran around the room in a panic. 

Pete waited impatiently for Emma with a scowl on his face. He checked his clock, it had been around five minutes since the curtains had closed. 

When they opened, Emma was standing there with her hair a bit windswept and makeup undone. He noticed she was only wearing some foundation or whatever it was called. 

"Hey," she greeted in her honey sweet voice. "Sorry for taking so long, there was a cliffhanger on the show I was watching."

Pete smiled and took the apology. "Can I come over?" He was already climbing over but thought it polite to ask. 

"Why not?" She answered when he tumbled in the window to stand in front of her. 

Pete took in her whole appearance. From her fluffy pjs to her slightly ruffled hair. He pecked her lips. 

"You're beautiful."

Even under the makeup he could see her blush. 

He glanced around the room and frowned. "Why are Mikey's clothes in here?" He made a grossed out face. 

She took a moment to reply. "He got in the shower. I always tell him to wash his clothes more often, but he just throws them in here to annoy me." 

She picked up the clothes and threw them in her wash basket. "Sorry."

She sat on the bed next to him. Pete scooted away. "Could you wash your hands please?"

She frowned "um yeah.. why?"

"You said his clothes were dirty," was his lame excuse.


	7. Lost in the Shadows

Pete shuffled into the school with his head down. His head hurt and his pills weren't helping. Everyday felt the same but he couldn't think of a way to change it. He was going to be stuck in the same loop until he was lying in a casket and maybe even then. Pete had at least found something to do with his time, he had found an underground poetry slam a little way into the city. He had been spending his time writing for Friday nights. 

Pete had gotten nothing out of Emma. She knew nearly everything about his past, all his secrets, all his lies, all of it. He guessed he just opened up too quickly. All he knew was what in her room he wasn't allowed touch, where in her house he wasn't allowed to go. She was very strict on those rules and Pete had no clue why.

The most he knew about her family was that she had a brother called Mikey and he was gay and Pete managed to find the second part out by himself. Pete knew she was hiding something, he'd be stupid not to.

He spotted Emma with her hood up, covering her hair. He frowned, Emma didn't go here but this person had the exact same face. She could be here for Mikey. He walked over "babe?" He asked softly and gently spun her around by her shoulder.

Mikeys head shot up in surprise and he coward away from Pete. He looked scared of him. His face was covered in bruises made by Pete's fist over the week. Petes eyes widened and he stepped back with a grimace. Pete wiped his hand on his jean clothed thigh as Bob stomped over. "Is there a problem here?" Bob growled out.

Pete shook his head, he had been warned about Bob. Rumours spread quick and even if they weren't true, Bob was tall and menacing. "No... I thought he was someone else." Pete mumbled and shuffled away cursing himself. He probably had Bob after him now too. Mikey had to have told him what had happened. 

"What was that?" Bob wrapped his arm around Mikey's shoulder and gently lead him to class. 

"I think he thought I was Emma..." Mikey sighed. "What if he finds out?" He looked up at bob with wide fearful eyes. Bob knew his softer friend could cry at any moment. 

"Listen, Pete Wentz isn't the brightest bulb on the Christmas tree, I'm sure he won't realise."

Mikey let out a small laugh and smiled at Bob. "Thanks Bobby, see you at lunch." Mikey kissed Bob's cheek and quickly walked away. 

\----

Pete hoisted himself out his bed and yawned. He rubbed his eyes, smudging his eyeliner from last night. It was finally the weekend again and he had planned to spend most of it with Emma. Last night was the first time he got up on the make-shift stage at the poetry slam. He recited one of his pieces he had wrote after he moved out. He vividly remembered how he had cried himself to sleep on Gabes couch after writing. 

Pete opened his curtains and couldn't help the smile that spread across his tired face at the sight of Emma in her room. They hadn't been together long but god did she make the butterflies in his stomach get caught a tsunami. She was standing by her bed. Pete guessed she was planning an outfit by the way fabrics littered the bed and her floor.

Pete threw a pebble at her window, reminding him of when they met. He watched Emma tense up as it clinked against the glass. Pete frowned and threw another one just in case she thought she was imagining it. Or that she had her music up loud, she often did. 

Pete watched Emma quickly leave the room, slamming the door behind herself. In confusion and concern, Pete made his way outside and hopped the fence. He shivered realising he had slept shirtless last night. He knocked on Emma's door, bouncing from foot to foot to keep himself warm. 

Donald opened the door. "Hello, Peter. Emma isn't home right now." He went to quickly close the door. Pete stuck his foot in the door before he had the chance. 

"She was in her room," he accused. Pete may not not have been the fastest blooming flower but he wasn't completely gone. Donald glared down at him. "She isn't here, Peter."

Pete sighed softly and turned to leave, but not without seeing Mikey watching the exchange from the kitchen doorway.

\----

"Mikey. Just tell me who's doing this to you.." Bob gently dabbed at the blood on Mikeys freshly bruised face. Bob had found Mikey beaten up again in an alleyway on the way to Mikeys house. He had been heading there since Mikey hasn't returned his calls. 

Mikey winced at a particularly deep cut and silently cursed rings. He slowly let his eyes close. "I don't know their names.." he repeated the lie for what felt like the millionth time. 

Bob put down the bloodstained cloth and gently rubbed some cream on his face. "It's Pete isn't it..?" 

Mikey flinched at the sting and the accusation. "Of course not, I know Petes name.."

"Mikey I can't stop it if you don't tell who's doing it-"

Mikey jumped up off the couch when the doorbell rang. "Door," he mumbled out. He quickly scrambled out to the hall to avoid more questions. He opened the front door and flinched. "E-Emma's not here.." he practically whimpered out. 

Mikey felt pathetic, cowering away from someone in his own home. He felt weak and vulnerable and like he'd die if his dad could see him now. He wanted to be able to fight back but he knew it would only end badly for him. 

Pete glared accusingly at him. "Send her over when she comes back, faggot." Pete spat at his feet and left. Mikey closed the door and staggered into the sitting room, still shaking from fear. 

"Bob? Teach me how to fight."


	8. Best friends, Ex-friends, Lovers

Pete glared at his wall menacingly. Something had finally clicked in his brain. He didn't know why it had taken him so long. It was so obvious.

How he didn't know anything about Emma.

How her and Mikey were never together.

How she wore a lot of makeup after he gave Mikey a particularly bad beating.

How, even he, mixed them up.

Emma looked out the window at Pete's blurry figure and wiped her eyes, managing to smudge her eyeliner even more.

Mikey trudged into the school building with his head down. His eyes were red and puffy. Yesterday's eyeliner was smudged, blending with the heavy bags under his eyes.

He cursed himself. It had all been a joke. He didn't know what to expect. Things did seem too good to be true. It was all a lie. He'd had enough lies.

He angrily got up, pulling the sheets off his bed in the process. He stormed down the stairs and slammed his front door behind him. His neighbour across the street looked up from her daily magazine and watched him. Pete scoffed to himself, the woman loved drama.

He knew the Ways never locked the back door, something about for when Emmas brother came home, so he marched right in.

Only, he wasn't met with Emma. He was met with Mikey. The faggot from school. A frown took hold of his face and he gently punched the window. The poor boy jumped and spun around, his eyes wide. He slowly opened the window, as though he was waiting to walk into Petes fist.

Pete stormed up the Emma's room. For once he didn't care if Donald was home and ready to beat him. He doubted he would anyway. He slammed the bedroom door open and growled like a wild dog. 

Mikey leapt off the bed and quickly tumbled down the side. He groaned and peeked up in fear. He didn't show his full face. "Pete! I-I don't have my makeup o-"

"Shut up." Pete spat and grabbed Mikey by the collar, pulling him up easily and pinning him against the wall.

"What the fuhk is this, huh? Some sick fuhking joke?! Who's behind this?!" Pete yelled, getting up in Mikeys face menacingly.

Mikey flinched away, tears welling in his liner ringed eyes. "N-no-" The boy felt himself start to tremble. He had always been terrified Pete would find out but now that he had, he hadn't a clue what to do.

Petes hand came down on Mikeys face with a sharp smack. Mikey gasped and held his stinging cheek, tears now falling freely. Mikey choked on his sobs.

Pete growled. "You lying bitch! Some sick joke to make the new kid seem like a faggot, huh?"

Mikey shook his head weakly. He couldn't look at Pete. He stared at his bed where they had spent so much time together. He whimpered softly. He'd never have that again.

"Hey! What's going on in here?!" A new voice yelled from the doorway angrily. Pete spun around, mostly to size up his competition.

A man stood there, maybe in his early 20's at most. His black clothes were covered in paint and his shoulder length hair looked like it had never seen shampoo. His face was livid, his fists balled.

Gerard stormed his way over to Pete and pulled him off Mikey in one swift movement. "What the fuhk do you think you're doing to my brother, huh?!"

Pete growled at him, deciding that he could easily take him. "Why don't you ask him?!" He spat back angrily. 

Gerard glared at him and turned to Mikey. His heart clenched at the sight of his baby brother worked up so much. He threw Pete down and quickly embraced Mikey. "What happened..?" He whispered softly.

"Th-this is Pete.." Mikey whimpered. Gerard looked at Pete in shock. Mikey had only talked good about him. He hadn't mentioned one bad thing that Pete did. Gerard managed to put two and two together.

"He found out you like being Emma..?" Gerard asked softly, not wanting to upset Mikey any more. Mikey nodded and sniffled. "He thinks it's a joke..." he sobbed out.

Gerard growled low in his throat. He whispered something in Mikeys ear, making the younger boy nod, and turned back to Pete. "Cmon asshole." He spat and grabbed Pete, tugging him downstairs and into the sitting room.

Gerard pushed him down onto the couch and glared at him. "He likes it, you idiot." 

"Excuse me?"

"It's nothing to do with you. Mikey likes being Emma."

Pete didn't say anything. He didn't understand at all. "What?" He asked dumbly.

"Mikey likes being Emma." Gerard repeated. "He likes dressing up as her, acting like her, getting respect. It's part of him. He enjoys it. It's nothing about you."

"He was lying to me-"

"Oh fuhk off with that. Don't you see? He is Emma. He's not lying to you. Some days he's Mikey, other days he's Emma. It's something we accept. You fell in love with Emma and she and Mikey fell in love with you. Maybe he was going to tell you-"

"I'm not a faggot."

"And there's why he didn't. You and Emma were in love. Mikey was just an added part of the equation. They're mostly the same, a few differences.."

Gerard trailed off and smiled at something behind Pete. Pete spun around, nervous of who or what was there. He expected Donald or maybe some butch angry uncle or something. He truly didn't expect Emma.

**Ending 1 (happy ending):**

She still took his breath away. She was dressed in a yellow camisole dress that reached her knees and had a single yellow flower in her tangled hair. She wore only lipgloss on her face. Pete stared in awe. He was blind to not see it before.

Gerard held his hand out for his little sibling and held her waist. "You look pretty," he smiled assuringly. Emma smiled softly and thanked him quietly.

Pete looked between them and sighed softly. This was Emma. The girl he loved. She was Mikey. The boy he hated. He shook his head. She was Emma.

Emma took a small breath and begun. "I know you probably hate me-"

"No. No I don't." Pete slowly got up. He took small steps towards Emma. Gerard glared but took a step back. Pete gently cupped Emma's face. He didn't see Mikey anymore. He didn't see Emma either. He saw them both and he surprised himself by liking it.

"I'm so sorry baby.." Pete whispered. He gently touched her face and winced at the red mark. "Let's go get you some ice for that face before we talk alright?"

Emma couldn't help the smile that overtook her face as she was lead into the kitchen.

"You don't hate me?"

"I could never hate you. I just, I was a bit paranoid and I regret it. Because as I've said before, I love you." Pete smiled and gently pressed his chapped lips against Emma's glossy ones.

Gerard smiled, watching the moment unfold between them. He slowly snook back downstairs to his room. 

**Ending 2 (sad ending):**

Pete couldn't help but cringe at the sight. Mikey was dressed in a yellow camisole dress and had a flower clipped into his ragged hair. Pete hated it.

As much as he tried to understand, all he saw was Mikey in girls clothes. Pete stood up, watching as Mikeys face became hopeful at the action. Pete slowly walked to the bottom of the stairs to greet him. Mikey smiled at him shyly.

Pete shook his head, making Mikeys face fall quickly. He now looked scared. Pete yanked the wig off and sighed. "You're a boy in girls clothes. You're a faggot and it's not allowed." He glared.

Mikeys eyes went dull and filled with tears again. Pete slapped him again. "Don't come near me. Ever. Don't send your stupid friend Bob after me either." He spat and stepped away.

Gerard pulled Pete back and punched him in the eye as hard as he could. "Stay away from her. Don't you dare tell anyone. Got it?" He growled and opened the front door. He pushed Pete out and slammed the door.

Emma fell to her knees, sobbing her heart out. Gerards heart broke. He quickly scooped her up and cradled her. "It's okay.. you're okay.. you're beautiful.." he whispered. He knew it was pointless but what else was there to do in a time like this?

They had been lovers, friends, and now they were ex-friends until the end.


End file.
